


Hansol and Zico, August of 2012

by HDhq



Category: Block B, Topp Dogg (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDhq/pseuds/HDhq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short episode, playing at the HD where Hansol is desperate for Zico, being the annoying lil' shit he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hansol and Zico, August of 2012

Deep below the streets that had been burning for days, making life slower and more painful with every degree of risen temperature, some people were seeking shelter in the underground of the city. Old cities that weren't made for large extends of traffic came handy of having subway stations, just like these which were built some decades ago, making use of ancient – maybe not ancient, but exaggerations sound so much more thrilling – tunnel systems, catacombs as some had been called. About everyone that had been to a city found himself being confused by those subways at least once; was I supposed to turn left over there to find my train? Where's the exit? And where does the 'emergency exit' door lead to, if the distance between this floor and the first glance of sunlight is about the height of another building. Subway stations somehow were capable of having a certain charm, of meeting a handsome stranger to temporary fall in love with, to exchange glances until the next train arrives with the speed of, well, a train, making your coats and shirts and heartbeat flutter. Over there, one of those handsome strangers, just leaving the train. Due to the heat he had his jacket carelessly thrown over his shoulder, wearing nothing but one of those black dress shirts with chopped of sleeves, some jewelery and ordinary pants and boots. He surely was one to fall in love with, if his expression hadn't been that deterrent. He looked annoyed, his face distorted to something like a grimace as he suddenly threw a glance at a large advertisement poster (Two burgers at the price of one! Don't miss out our hot special this week!) or maybe it was the newly built, large mirror integrated into the brick wall, that caught his attention. He came to stand in front of it, breathing in air that was much colder, a nice contrast to the heat; looking back and forth between the display of his cell phone and his own reflection.  
Then suddenly he turned around, hurriedly walking towards the exit, well, almost. Maybe he had been at the case of emergency, maybe he was a daredevil, but maybe.. he was only going to work. Making sure that no one was watching he closed the emergency-exit door softly, facing a set of upwards leading stairs and a door he unlocked to reveal another dark corridor made out of stone and a doormat which was embroidered with two golden letters: HD.

Business inquiries should be kept separate at all costs; mistakes like this wouldn't happen a second time. No one but himself was to blame. He should have known beforehand that Hansol shouldn't be trusted. It started off a while ago. A simple “hey, would you like to come over?”, he didn't think too much of it and denied. “Well, you should.”

Cursing in his head, Zico wasn't up for playing but his favorite nuisance in the form of a person had been annoying him since he'd woken up today; countless messages flooding his phone, making him wanting to throw it out of a window, or drown it at the bottom of the pool a few rooms away.  
“I'm over here.” A voice he knew quite well, in all of his pitches from low moans, annoying laughter and high shrieks, of course caused by no other than him, coming from a room to his left.  
“There you are!” A smile forming on the lips of the young boy, who was chest deep inside of a whirl pool; Zico frowning, remembering the night he first met him. He didn't even bother to answer, leaning against the door frame, watching Hansol in the middle of the squared room across from a wall that seemingly was made out of gray tinted glass, opening their view into the subway station. He'd been to this room only once before, but he couldn't recall seeing the floor length glass wall before. “Did they finally give in to your pleas?” A sarcastic chuckle, Zico striding up to it, crossing his arms. “How much was it? Five of your salaries?” Over there another boy, younger than both of them only separated by the thin glass, sipping a cup of coffee while waiting on his train, obviously lost in his thoughts; looking up to watch his reflection, capturing Zico's gaze.

  
“It would be easy for me to go up to them, tell them about your second profession. That selling poor, young boys is what you do. You pick us up and make us your prostitutes. Young boys, children almost. But I guess that's what real rappers do? Living' the life, enjoying others misery.” His careless laugh never sounded more atrocious and Zico wanted to shut him up, making him choke on his words until he realized who he was talking to. But a cold dread froze his hands to his body. Yes, Hansol knew about his career in the music business, god damn, that's where he picked him up. He wouldn't tell them. Right?

  
“Desperate is what you are.” Hansol's head lay on his chest, arms clasped around Zico's neck. “Desperate and greedy. Maybe you should let yourself get checked by a doc.” The temperature of the whirl pool was pleasant as it was slowly bubbling around them. “How many did you have this week?” No, Zico was not talking about apples a day who seemingly kept the doctor away, although the number of encounters wasn't too far off. He didn't answer, gnawing on his pouty lip. “Tell me. I'm serious.” “That's not your business...” The boy groaned, dragging his head up to rest it on Zico's shoulder, fastening his grip. “I simply enjoy...”, his voice trailed off somewhere along the other one's hand on his lower back, “being with people. Bodies are nice.” Zico agreed reluctantly, allowing him to wrap his legs around his waist, grinding up onto him. “See, desperate.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
